


Smoke and Mirrors

by Zephyrfox



Series: Goldeneye Reflections [6]
Category: GoldenEye (1995), James Bond (Classic movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-08-23 20:40:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8341978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephyrfox/pseuds/Zephyrfox
Summary: Smoke and Mirrors covers the events just before the beginning of Reflections on the Water. It ends with showing what happens at MI6 after M receives the gift that James and Alec send her.In this chapter,  James and Alec find out that another Double O is after them. They take care of the problem.





	1. Chapter 1

 

James Bond glanced at the photo that landed on his desk and looked up. Alec Trevelyan stood there, face blank, looking back at him. He felt a knot of worry form in his stomach. “What’s wrong?”

Alec tapped the photo. “He’s been nosing around Moscow, asking about Janus. And you.”

 _Fuck._ He studied the photo. A black haired man had been caught in profile on a busy street, his attention focused on something out of frame. 002 was obviously unaware that he had been photographed — so much for an agent being always aware of his surroundings. James looked up again, narrowing his eyes. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“I found out about him from my contact in Moscow. He went to the morgue. Ourumov has been found. Well,” Alec’s smile turned wolfish, “parts of Ourumov, anyway.”

“I’m surprised they found anything. There wasn’t that much left of him.” He allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction at that memory as he met Alec’s eyes. His smile sharpened. “I made sure of that.”

Heat flared in Alec’s eyes. “I know. I watched you.” He leaned over and caught James’ lips in a biting, possessive kiss.

James growled. He surged to his feet, pulling Alec closer, and took control as they kissed. He rocked his hips forward, their bodies coming together in a continuous line from their knees to their chests. When he broke the kiss, he bent his head to bite and suck at Alec’s tempting throat.

Alec clutched at James to keep his balance. His head tilted back and he gasped, “Couch?”

James could feel the hard press of Alec’s cock against his, through both pairs of trousers. He tried to focus his thoughts on what they had been discussing.

“Later,” he promised. He licked over the pulse beating in Alec’s throat, and pulled reluctantly away. “We need to concentrate on 002.”

Alec made a frustrated noise. “We can just kill 002,” he muttered, trying to pull James back into a kiss.

He pulled back, startled. “What?”

Alec frowned, his brows drawing together in confusion. “James?”

“He’s another Double O, Alec.” He couldn’t believe he had to explain this. He and Alec might be considered criminals now, but they couldn’t turn against their former colleagues.

Understanding flashed across Alec’s face, followed quickly by hurt and anger. “So?” He shoved James away. “002 could have been the one that shot me.”

James felt the blood drain from his face at the reminder of what he could have lost. He would have never discovered that Alec had still been alive. He put his hand over the healed chest wound, reveling in the warmth seeping through the shirt.

Alec put his hand over James’. “Why are you being stubborn about this? He’s a threat. We kill him.”

How could he make Alec understand? “I’m not choosing him over you. We need to find out what he knows. If it was 002 that shot you, then we kill him. If not, then we can decide after we question him. Either kill him — or let him go.”

Alec’s face hardened. He pulled James’ hand from his chest and turned away.

Alarmed, James caught at Alec’s sleeve to keep him from leaving. He relaxed when Alec stopped, and spoke quickly. “If 002 doesn’t know anything about the traitor, we send him to M. He can be a threat to the traitor — that we’re coming. That might flush him out into the open.”

Alec turned back, and James could see that he was considering the idea.

“That will give M a warning, too.” The implied question was apparent in Alec’s tone.

“The old bat will send more people after us anyway. Sending her 002 will make her cautious. The Evil Queen of Numbers, Tanner called her. She’s calculating. She’ll wait to find out what’s going on before making a decision.” He shrugged. “She might even do some of our work for us and ferret out the traitor herself.”

“Tanner? Who is —” Alec shook his head. “No, don’t bother. Do you really think she would?”

“Yes.”

Alec sighed, obviously giving in despite his better judgement. “All right.”

He couldn’t stand to see the unhappy look on Alec’s face. He pulled Alec back to him, pleased to find no resistance. Their kiss was gentle this time, an apology and a promise for later.

Alec didn’t step back when the kiss ended. He took a breath, and then returned to their original subject. “According to my informant, 002 thinks that Ourumov was Janus, and that you killed him and took his place.”

“Well,” he quirked an eyebrow, “that is partly right, at least.”

A small smile flickered across Alec’s face and was gone. “Yes. So far, no one has told him that you and I are both acting as Janus.”

“Which gives us the advantage.”

Alec nodded. “Exactly.”

“Do you want to go back to Moscow and set up a trap for him there?” The idea made sense, but he would rather stay in Kiev. Their current base of operations was a lovely, large old manor, and had plenty of room for training their new guards. Their Moscow house was comfortable enough, but wasn’t set up for the training he demanded.

Alec was watching him with a lopsided smile. “No need to go back there. I’ll have someone pass 002 the news that Janus has fled to Kiev to hide from him.”

James snorted at the idea they — or he — would run from anything. “When he gets here, we can send him on a wild goose chase and ambush him.”

Alec nodded. “And we’ll figure out what to do with him then.”

James opened his mouth to answer, but was distracted by the feel of Alec’s hand unbuckling his belt. He forgot about 002, and allowed Alec to push him back, over the desk.

 

~~~~

 

A figure dressed all in black detached from the shadows of a building. His target had gone past, unsuspecting. He followed, stealing from one shadow to the next, always taking care to remain unseen.

 

~~~~

 

The tall, black haired man advanced cautiously as he followed another figure down the dark street. Despite the bright light from the full moon, there were plenty of shadows for him to lurk in. He just needed to make sure that he kept the other man in sight.

His informant — such a sweet, cuddly little thing — had been correct. Janus, his former colleague James Bond, was heading to a particular warehouse in this area. He had seen no sign of anyone accompanying the other man. Apparently Bond was confident that he could handle anything himself, rather than rely on guards for protection.

_Why the hell had Bond decided to lose his mind in Russia in the winter? Couldn't he have chosen Bermuda or Hawaii? Somewhere warm?_

The man scowled. The figure up ahead had paused, half turning around, as if something had caught his attention. He cursed to himself. He hadn’t made any noise that would have given him away. Then a cheerful voice came out of the darkness from behind him.

“Simon! You should have let us know you were in the area. We would have prepared a more… _appropriate…_ welcome.”

Simon Latimer, 002 of Her Majesty’s Secret Service, froze. The cold, hard touch of a gun barrel on the back of his head stopped him from turning around. He carefully held his arms out, away from his sides.

“Hello, James,” he returned lightly. _We?_ He thought furiously, trying to figure out who Bond was talking about, but came up empty. Bond had no known associates. Not any more, at least. Where had the other man come from? He thought the man he had been tailing was Bond. If it wasn’t, then who was in front of him? A feeling of dread shivered along his spine.

“Well, well, well. If it isn't young Latimer. Still in need of more practice before joining the grown ups."

Simon’s mouth fell open in shock as a dead man’s voice emerged from the shadows ahead. The figure that he had been following had turned around, and was coming slowly toward him. He squinted, trying to identify the features that were still obscured in the darkness — it couldn’t be who it sounded like. “Trevelyan? But you’re dead!”

“How do you know I’m dead?” Trevelyan’s soft voice held a chill.

“Because Bond said you were dead ten years ago!” Could Bond have been a traitor for that long? He had obviously lied about Trevelyan’s death. Was he imagining the thoughtful look on Trevelyan’s face? What the hell was going on?!

Trevelyan’s cold green eyes flicked to point over Simon’s shoulder, where Bond stood. “What do you think?”

“He’s telling the truth.” Bond’s voice was dismissive.

“What do you —” Simon started to demand information when something struck his neck, sending him spiraling into darkness.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Simon. Everyone is against him. Well, at least Bond and Trevelyan are against him. What did he do to deserve this? He was only going to capture Bond and bring him home to M so she could deal with him. It's just not fair. 
> 
> Or, Simon's reaction to being captured by James and Alec.

 

Simon woke, immediately aware of two things. His head felt like it was splitting in two, and it was pillowed on a soft, warm surface. He kept his breathing steady and tried to figure out where he was. The last thing he remembered was confronting Bond on the street — and then Trevelyan had appeared, shockingly alive for a man who was supposed to have been dead for a decade.

Gentle fingers carded through his hair, and a not unfamiliar scent tickled his nose. “Dayesi?” What was she doing here — wherever here was? He shifted, opening his eyes. Brown doe-like eyes blinked down at him and widened.

“Simon! You’re awake!”

“Yes.” His voice sounded rusty. He’d kill for some water. He debated staying where he was, lying on Dayesi’s comfortable lap, but reluctantly decided against it. He needed to be sitting up, at least, to check out the surrounding area. To his embarrassment, however, she had to help him up.

“Are you sure you are able to sit?” The question, in Dayesi’s Spanish-accented English, grated against his pride.

“Of course I can!” Her lovely eyes, already huge, grew larger when he snapped at her. He sighed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Dayesi bit her lip and nodded, casting her gaze down.

Simon refrained from rolling his eyes. He took a moment to look around the room they were in. It was a cell, with a couple guards on the other side of the door.  _ Wonderful. _ He turned back to the girl. “Now tell me, sweetheart. How did you get here? You were supposed to wait for me at the hotel.”

When she looked up, her eyes were watering. “I’m so sorry, Simon! They knocked, and I thought it was you and —” she choked, hiding her face with her hands as she started to cry.

He swore to himself, and pulled her into an embrace. “It’s all right, darling. I’m here, I’ll protect you.” He made soothing noises until she pulled herself together.

 

~*~*~*~

 

(72 Hours Ago)

He had ended up at an upscale club in Moscow while tracking down his erstwhile colleague. He leaned against the bar, tapping his foot along with the music’s beat, as he contemplated his next move. The lead he had been following had brought him here and then fizzled out. He would have to backtrack a bit and see if he could pick up his quarry’s trail once more. 

“Excuse me.”

A woman’s voice, her Russian delightfully accented by Spanish, caught his attention. He turned to see a woman as beautiful as her voice standing at his side. “Yes?”

She was looking up at him through long, dark lashes. “You were asking — forgive me, but I heard you say you were looking for Janus. Do you really want to find him?” She looked away, her eyes darting around the nearby area, obviously uneasy.

He leaned his elbow on the bar and studied her. She was a tiny little thing, maybe an inch or three over five feet if she kicked off the high heels she was wearing. Her amber dress clung to her curves, and complemented the light mocha of her skin. Her black hair was a fluffy mass of springy coils. He smiled. “Well, hello, sweetheart. What’s your name?”  

She shifted her attention back to him and smiled sweetly. “I’m Dayesi.”

“What an unusual name.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “It’s quite lovely. A fitting match for such a beautiful girl.”

Dayesi blushed. When she spoke again, it was in charmingly accented English. “It means ‘yes’ in three languages. Russian, English, and Spanish. Da, yes, si.” Then she pouted prettily. “But you didn’t answer my question.”  

He took a sip of his drink as he contemplated her. Such a very accommodating name. Well. No matter what, this would prove to be an...  _ interesting _ … encounter. “Yes, I do need to find Janus.”

Her eyes met his for a moment, before sliding away to take in the room again. Apparently satisfied that no one was paying them any attention, she leaned forward in a delicately scented cloud to whisper, “I know where he’s going to be in a few days, but I shouldn’t speak of it here.”

Simon smiled in anticipation. “Well then. Do you have somewhere a little more…  _ private _ … that we can go?” His smile broadened at her hesitant nod.

 

~~~~

 

She led him around the corner to an apartment building. Her flat was tiny, not much more than a comfortable looking bed, a sitting area, and a barely there kitchen.

Simon suppressed a sigh of impatience as she fluttered around him, trying to tidy the already neat flat. Finally he reached out to gently grasp her elbow as she flitted past. “Never mind that, love. You had something to tell me. What is it?”

Dayesi looked down at the rag in her hand, as if surprised to see it, then shoved it behind her back to let it fall to the floor. She blushed when she met his eyes. “I… Well, I’m —” She hesitated.

He bit back a snarl. This one was delicate, and needed careful handling. It wouldn’t do to frighten her away with his frustration. He tried to be gentle as he interrupted. “I think I understand, dear. You do favors for favors.”

Dayesi nodded meekly, looking grateful for his explanation. 

He’d had enough of her inadvertent delays. He looked around for a place to sit, and decided on the bed. It would almost certainly come into play later, so there was no need to dance around it. He grasped Dayesi’s delicate hands in his and led her to the bed. He sat, drawing her down next to him. “Why don’t you tell me everything.”

Dayesi bit her lip and nodded. “My… protector… brought me here from Cuba, but he was killed. Since then I’ve been... Exchanging favors, as you said. One of the men was Janus. He’s… terrifying.” She gave a delicate shudder.

_ Damn it, Bond, what did you do to this poor girl? _ Simon was furious that Bond had apparently ill-used the lovely little thing beside him. “Don’t worry about that, sweetheart. I’ll protect you.”

Dayesi gave him a wavery smile, so he put his arm around her in comfort. She snuggled closer, sighing happily. 

Simon waited, trying to be patient. Just as he was about to prompt the girl again, she spoke.

“Janus kept me close for a little while.” She blushed, and refused to meet his eyes. “I…  pleased him.”

He put a finger under her chin to encourage her to look up at him. He made sure that he had an understanding smile on his face. “Of course you did, darling. I'm sure you'd please anyone.”

Dayesi smiled at him adoringly as one of her hands trailed along his thigh. “Would you like me to please you, Simon?”

He put his hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Maybe a little later, darling. You’re doing very well. Keep going.” This girl would be a gold mine of information — if he could just keep her talking!

“One of the deals he made — it was something to do with Kiev.”

_ Kiev! _ There had been rumours that Janus had gone to Kiev. This was the confirmation that he had been looking for! Simon struggled to keep his excitement in check. “That’s very good, sweetheart. Do you know any of the details?”

She gave him a pretty frown as she thought. Then she shook her head. “Just that it’s taking place in Kiev in three days.”

He huffed, frustrated. So close! He needed more information before he reported to M that he was shifting his search for Bond to another city.

Dayesi brightened. “But I do know someone in Kiev.” She tilted her head, her eyes adorably wide. “If you brought me with you, I could find out more from them.”

“All right, love. You can come to Kiev with me.” Having such lovely company would certainly keep him from being bored while he tried to locate Bond. He reached behind her to slowly unzip her dress.

Dayesi’s lips parted on a breathy sigh. “Oh, Simon!”

He smiled as the dress fluttered off her shoulders, revealing two perfectly formed breasts straining at scraps of dark gold lace. _ Very nice.  _

He kissed her, slowly easing her back, until they were both lying down. He worked his other hand along her thigh and up under her dress, to discover nothing but dampening curls between her legs. 

Dayesi gasped, then moaned, “Oh, Simon…” 

 

~*~*~*~

 

(Now)

Simon put his arm around Dayesi and pulled her close, trying to keep her warm. The cell was chilly and slightly damp, and the poor thing was only wearing a gray silk negligee. She must have been planning to welcome him back to their room in a very entertaining manner. It was a pity he’d missed it.

She snuggled into his side. 

He cursed the guard who had taken his jacket when they searched him for weapons. He would have been warmer with it on. On the other hand, without the jacket, he could feel the girl’s delightful breasts pushed up against him through his shirt.

Well. She didn’t seem worse for wear, just frightened. He’d have to make sure she remained all right until he could get them out of this mess. He was supposed to capture Bond and return him to M. Now he needed to factor Trevelyan into his plans. M would surely be pleased to have both traitors locked up. Then he could take a bit of a holiday with his current companion. Show her some of the good life before he left her back in Moscow.

He made and discarded several plans to escape. He just didn’t know enough about where they were imprisoned. It looked like a cell in a large basement, but what was above them? A warehouse? A factory? He needed more information to create a successful plan. Now it was just a waiting game, until Bond or Trevelyan showed up to question him or kill him.

 

~~~~

 

The girl was shivering against him when he spotted movement outside the cell. 

The guard straightened, and was soon joined by three others. One of them, a tall man with medium brown hair, seemed to be the leader. That man looked over him dismissively before leering uncouthly at Dayesi.

The girl buried her head in his chest and trembled. 

“What do you want?” He raised his voice as he addressed the tall man.

The man gave him a shark’s grin, all teeth and threat. “Information. You will be interrogated by Janus.” He gestured to one of the other guards, who stepped forward and unlocked the cell.

The other two immediately trained their weapons on him and the girl. He stood, and drew her to her feet. She quailed against him.

Three of the guards moved into the cell towards them. One grabbed Dayesi, prompting a terrified wail, “Simon!”

“Leave her alone! She’s not part of this.” He surged forward but was jerked back by the other two guards converging on him and grabbing his arms. “Just cooperate with them, sweetheart. It will be all right.”

“Simon!”

He struggled against his captors as he watched Dayesi being dragged out of the cell and handed over to the tall man.

The man loomed over the poor girl, easily a foot and a half taller than Dayesi. She tried to pull away but gave a soft cry. The man had probably given her arm a painful squeeze. She looked terribly fragile in the man’s grip.

Simon ground his teeth. He had an armed guard on either side of him, and one to his back. That one gave him a hard shove and he stumbled forward out of the cell. He turned and snarled at the man before looking back at the tall guard, and demanding, “Where are you taking us?” 

“To see Janus.” The tall man smirked at him. “Of course, you might not… enjoy the meeting.” 

He met the girl’s frightened eyes and tried to muster a reassuring look on his face. 

She bit her lip and then was hidden from his view by the tall man, who pushed her ahead of the group and started walking down the hall.

He was prodded from behind again, and with a glower he followed the tall man, surrounded by the three guards. 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyotr decides the women in his life are crazy, James and Alec know better than to argue with them, and Simon learns that he really isn't as good as he thinks he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Jaimistoryteller for one of Dayesi's lines.

Pyotr walked behind Dasha, making sure to keep his body between her and their prisoner. She was aware of what he was doing, and added a deliberate wiggle to her walk. He snorted. As far as he was concerned, she’d been off limits since the day he met her, when she had seduced Alec at a party.

When he had gone looking for Alec at the party, he had decided to check the library. It had been a reasonable assumption; the house was big enough to have a room dedicated to books, and when Alec needed to get away for a bit he tended to gravitate towards the greatest concentration of books in the area.

He had guessed correctly, and had found Alec in the library. With Dayesi. She had been naked and under Alec, clearly just after having sex. He’d been a little uncomfortable with her afterwards. He had gotten over it, but when she was on a mission like this, it brought back that feeling. She knew that, and was taking advantage of this situation to tease him.

When they entered the interrogation room, he pulled her aside to let the three guards take Latimer inside and secure him to a chair. He looked at Dasha out of the corner of his eye. She winked at him before schooling her expression into one of terror.

Latimer struggled, but was no match for his men. He’d trained them, and then Alec and James had improved on that training. After securing Latimer, they stood back. Maksim took up a position beside their prisoner, while Misha and Vadim retreated back through the door.

He eyed the table by the door. It was full of implements that would suggest pain in abundance in the near future. Good. All was prepared. Then he propelled Dayesi after his men, smirking at Latimer’s renewed threats as she screamed again. He didn’t like the man.

Once they were in the hall and the door closed he rounded on Dayesi, checking her for injuries. “Are you all right?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He hesitated. He wasn’t sure how to answer that in a way that wouldn’t insult her competence and leave him in a great deal of pain.

She sighed impatiently. “I’m fine. He’s an idiot. He bought my fluff-headed innocent act hook, line, and sinker.”

That last phrase had been in English. He chuckled. Dasha was fine.

Then she said, “I need one of you to hit me.”

That startled him, before he realized that she wanted to have a visible injury to show their prisoner. That didn’t mean he liked the idea. He exchanged glances with Misha and Vadim. They looked back at him and shook their heads. _Damn._ They weren’t going to step forward and volunteer.

"Come on. One of you can hit me. You remember I have the same training as our bosses right? Now one of you punch me before I hit all of you in the balls."

She looked disappointed in them when none of them moved to strike her. She sighed and shook her head. “All right. We’ll do it this way instead. Brace yourselves, boys.” Dayesi lifted a hand, raising three fingers for a countdown. With the last finger she threw her shoulders back, raised her head, took a deep breath, and _screamed._

All three of them flinched, even with the warning. Their prisoner’s muffled shouts came through the door in response.

“That sounds like Dayesi.”

It was his boss’ voice, sounding amused. Alec came around the corner, James walking by his side as usual, with Lidiya following.

Dasha brightened at seeing her girlfriend, but didn’t acknowledge her. She didn’t like being demonstrative when she was working. Of course, that meant that James still hadn’t realized that the two were together. That seemed harmless now, but might lead to a problem later.

They were already keeping the knowledge that she had been Alec’s mistress from James — Alec didn’t want him to know. Pyotr wasn't sure that was a good idea, but he kept his opinions to himself.

Alec strode over to Dayesi and grasped her arms, looking her up and down. “You’re all right? He hasn’t hurt you?”

“Oh, please. As if he could hurt me. I didn’t even have to ask him to use a condom. He insisted.” She snickered. “Probably was sure I had all sorts of interesting diseases.”

He could see Lidiya relax a bit. The AIDS epidemic sweeping the globe made using sex in traps a bit dicey. He turned his attention back to Dasha as she reported everything that she had learned from Latimer.

Then they discussed strategy. Dasha was still insisting that someone had to hit her. She wanted at least one bruise on her face, and preferred to have some blood showing.

He looked at Lidiya. Would she allow her girlfriend to be injured while she watched? He blinked at the thoughtful look on her face. Was she seriously considering Dasha’s demand?

“If one of you can hit her hard enough to bruise her cheek,” Lidiya glared around at the men, “and not to do any more damage than that, I can give her a few slices with a scalpel that will bleed impressively but will heal cleanly.”

Dasha, naturally, looked pleased with that idea.

Pyotr shook his head. He would never understand women.

“Simon’s not going to get close enough to look at her. I can whip up a few realistic looking bruises in a few minutes with what we have upstairs…” James offered.

Alec seized on the suggestion, sounding grateful. “Yes! Excellent plan.” He caught sight of Dasha’s scowl and hurriedly added, “And bleeding from a few slices of Lidiya’s scalpel will really sell the injuries.”

Dasha smiled smugly, then with another countdown, she screamed again, causing everyone — except for Lidiya — to flinch.

 

~~~~

 

Simon seethed, glaring at the guard who had remained when they had dragged his girl off. He didn’t know what was happening to her, but he could guess. The poor thing kept screaming. If he could get free, he would kill them all. If he found the girl, he’d try his best to take her with him when he got out of there.

He scanned the room. No windows, only one door. And close to that door… He eyed the table. It looked like it held the tools that would be used on him in the near future. He tried not to think about it. Still, if he could get free and grab one of the knives, he might have a decent chance at an escape attempt.

The door opened. He looked over to see Bond and Trevelyan enter, wearing lab coats already stained with blood. Probably the girl’s. He wondered for a moment if she was still alive, then put her out of his mind. He had more important things to worry about. There was bound to be unpleasantness in his immediate future.

Trevelyan smiled at him. It was a shark’s expression, cold and merciless. He wondered what had caused the terrible burns on Trevelyan’s face. The man probably deserved it.

He had been watching Bond and Trevelyan, but sounds at the door drew his attention. The tall man entered, a woman carrying a satchel at his side. They were followed by the other two guards, who dragged the girl, half-conscious, into the room.

The guards hauled the girl across the room and dropped her into the chair opposite him, where she slumped, head hanging down. They didn’t bother tying her. Then they stepped back, taking positions on either side of the door.

The girl raised her head and blinked, dazed. Blood from a wound dripped from her forehead down the side of her face. She had a necklace of fingerprint bruises blooming around her throat, and more blood dotted her negligee.

“Ah, you’ve brought our new toy in. Good.” Trevelyan eyed the girl possessively. Bond smirked beside him.

Simon struggled at the ropes. “You animals!”

The girl’s eyes cleared when she saw him. “Simon! Oh, Simon!” Her voice was rough and shaky. Pain from being choked and whatever else they had done to her, and no doubt terrified out of her mind, poor thing.

He decided to play the gallant and draw Bond’s and Trevelyan’s attention to him and away from the girl. “I won’t tell you anything,” he snarled.

“Oh, Simon!” Dayesi gasped weakly, terror evident in her voice. “Please don’t make them angry!”

Stupid girl. Why couldn’t she stay quiet?

Bond leaned forward and struck the girl on the face. Her head turned sharply as she cried out in pain. Then she hid her face in her hands, and all Simon could hear was her muffled sobs.

“Quiet, woman,” Trevelyan sneered. “That was just a taste of what you’ll get later.”

The girl shuddered, but kept crying.

Then Bond and Trevelyan turned their attention to him.

Bond walked over to stand in front of him, Trevelyan at his shoulder. “Hello, Simon. We have a few questions for you.”

At his words, the woman placed the satchel on the table and dug into it.  She pulled out a bottle and a hypodermic needle, then filled the needle with the solution from the bottle. Probably some truth serum that they expected to loosen his tongue.

Trevelyan shook his head dismissively. “I still don’t believe they made Latimer a Double O. Standards have slipped so much in the time I’ve been away.”

Stung, he retorted, “I’m a better Double O than you or Bond ever were!”

Bond laughed. “That’s why you were so easy for us to snatch off the street, hmm?”

He glared resentfully at Bond. It wasn’t his fault that he’d thought that Bond was the man he had been following. He hadn’t known that Trevelyan was still alive.

The woman finished preparing the needle and pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. Then she approached him, capping the needle and putting it in her pocket. She nodded at the guard standing next to him.

The guard holstered his gun and bent to grab Simon’s arm in a rough grip. He pulled the sleeve up, exposing the biceps. The guard held tightly, so that Simon couldn’t move, no matter how he struggled.

The woman pulled a rubber tourniquet from her pocket and tied it around his biceps. After that, she pulled an alcohol swab out, and swiped his skin with the disinfectant.

He considered something sarcastic to say, but before he could, she dipped into her pocket again, withdrawing the needle. She uncapped it, then stabbed it into one of the veins in his arm. She smiled, all teeth, as she did.

He could feel the solution burning through his veins after she released the tourniquet and stepped back.

They waited a few minutes for the truth serum to take effect.

He began to feel relaxed and mellow, with a sense of distance from from everything around him. He fought to remember his anti-interrogation training. He wanted to bite his tongue hard enough to make it impossible to talk, but somehow as the minutes dragged on it seemed less and less important.

Trevelyan startled him with a snapped question. “Why were you the one assigned to find Bond?”

He blinked at Trevelyan in confusion, then swung his head slowly around as Bond barked the next question, “What were your orders?”

The interrogation continued, each man snapping questions at him, one after the other.

He felt a distant horror as he heard himself mumbling the answers.

He had been assigned by M, to capture and return Bond to her. He didn’t know who else knew; Tanner, the Quartermaster, whoever else was authorized to know about his mission. He didn’t know of anyone who might have volunteered for the mission, or that had asked about the mission.

He felt offense at the next question. He was a Double O. He didn’t need backup.

Then they asked about how he had found Bond. He told them it was the girl. They looked at her as she wailed in fright.

He felt a vague regret at telling them about her, but it wasn’t his fault. It was the truth serum.

The next thing he knew, the woman was standing over him again, and she stabbed him with a different needle.

Everything dimmed, sound coming to him as if he were under water, and then went black.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lidiya isn't happy, but she finds ways to deal with her annoyance. Pyotr brings James and Alec some news, and later more information. James gets overprotective. There's a fight and making up. All in all, a typical day in the life of a pair of rogue Double O's.

 

Lidiya Raskova stared at the two men in front of her. They had come to her office after checking on her patient, and then asked her to — she shook her head, certain that she hadn’t heard correctly. “You want to do  _ what?” _

Dayesi, her Dayushka, sat on the desk, innocently swinging her legs. She explained helpfully, all sweet reasonableness, “They want to ship the idiot in your clinic back to MI6 in a coffin.”

She tried to glare but failed when she saw her Dayushka’s impish grin. A pleasant warmth filled her as she looked at her lover sitting on the desk. The sight brought back delicious memories that she had no time for during this discussion, but she couldn’t help the slight smirk as she gazed at her Dayushka, who was looking unfairly adorable and completely distracting. The memories were of her Dayushka, laid out on that desk, her dark skin a lovely contrast against the light colored wood grain, with her dark hair spreading out in its tightly coiled spirals. Her Dayushka had been gorgeous, gasping and writhing in pleasure. She really needed to get this matter settled so the men would get out of her office...

She turned her glare on the third man in the room. Petya was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He shrugged one shoulder at her. She was on her own fighting this battle.

“Come on, Lidiya. You must see that it’s a good plan,” James said, turning the full force of one of his charismatic smiles on her, not seeming to notice the brief scowl Alec sent his way. Alec’s James thought he was charming and suave, a ladies’ man. Flirting seemed second nature to him, something he did automatically to get his way. 

She didn’t think that he was used to his charm failing him. One of these days she would have to correct that. His flirting decidedly did  _ not _ work on her. The only one she wanted to flirt with her was her Dayushka.

“Keeping anyone sedated for long periods could cause damage to the brain,” she said firmly, making sure not to look at her Dayushka. She didn’t need to be distracted right now. “And the rest of what you're suggesting isn't safe for a number of reasons. Accidents happen to cargo all the time. What if the crate shifts during the flight? He could be injured. And what's to keep the IV from moving in transit?”

“It’s either that or kill him,” James pointed out, his smile losing some of its charm in the face of her resistance.

She pressed her lips together. She knew that. She just wasn’t happy about the choice. It went against her Hippocratic Oath to keep the man unconscious for days without a medical necessity. 

It was her Hippocratic Oath that held her from taking her annoyance and discomfort out on the man. She wasn’t jealous, exactly. She was well aware that her Dayushka used sex sometimes to bait her traps. But she had never had need to encounter one of the men that had slept with her Dayushka before. Alec didn’t count, of course. Alec had been her Dayushka’s lover before, and that served a purpose to allow them all to seem straight to those outside their little group. And now Alec had his James again, and any time that he and her Dayushka were together it was an act for those outsiders to see.

“Fine.” She huffed in annoyance as she gave in. Keeping the man unconscious for a week was better than killing him out of hand. “I will set up an IV that will keep him unconscious until he gets to England.”

“Excellent!” Alec grinned at her. “We have a coffin and crate being prepared. Just keep him unconscious and we’ll ship him out in two days.”

She nodded. “Very well.” She had made her objections to the plan known. Now she would just do her best to keep her Hippocratic Oath as intact as she could.

Her Dayushka smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Lilya.”

Hmmm. Perhaps that wouldn’t be such a stretch of her Hippocratic Oath after all. She tilted her head in thought as the others left the room and her Dayushka slipped off the desk to join her.  

Her Dayushka turned her face up for a kiss and stretched up on her toes to reach. 

As she bent to capture her Dayushka’s sweet mouth in a kiss, she pondered what she could do to make sure the man had a little… souvenir… of his trip to Russia. Nothing permanent, but something annoying. Something… memorable. She smirked in satisfaction at one of the possibilities, then she gave her Dayushka the attention she deserved.

 

~~~~

 

Alec placed his weapon on the counter in front of him, then pulled off his earmuffs and goggles. He looked to his side. James was there, earmuffs already around his neck and goggles in hand. 

They both made sure their weapons were safe, then laid them on the counter in front of the firing lanes.

James drifted close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating next to him, to lounge with one hip leaning against the counter. 

He slanted his gaze towards their lieutenant. “What is it?”

“One of our informants reported that there are two other foreign men asking questions about Janus,” Pyotr told them. “They’ve been resisting any attempts to put them off the trail.”

“They must have followed the leads that we planted for 002 in Moscow,” James said, giving him a little nudge with one shoulder.

“Probably,” he agreed. “We need to learn more about them.”

Pyotr nodded. “I’ll send Zakhar to follow them. He’s the best we have for following targets.”

Alec nodded. Zakhar very good at seeming to disappear when he was trailing someone. He was average. Average height, average weight, average looks — easy to overlook, unless you looked into his eyes. They were a clear blue, full of humor and intelligence. 

“Good choice.” As he spoke, he felt a hand stroke his back, from his shoulder down to his hip. He pushed into the touch and smirked.

Pyotr’s eyes slid towards James, and he grinned. With a slight shake of his head, he turned to walk out of the range, muttering under his breath about newlyweds and honeymoons.

The arm on his hip snaked around his waist and pulled him back, until he was leaning against James. Alec tilted his head to allow his lover better access as the expected nibbling began on his neck. They couldn’t plan any further without more information and their shooting competition could wait. Spending the time doing some catching up for their nine years apart would be much more enjoyable.

 

~~~~

 

“Get out,” Alec snapped at Bogdan and Zakhar, his voice tight with fury.

James watched from the other side of the room, trying to control his own anger. He had gotten up from the couch, leaving his glass of scotch on the coffee table, because he couldn’t yell at Alec while he was sitting next to him. 

Bogdan and Zakhar exchanged uneasy glances. The tracker had spent most of the last day shadowing the two strangers, and had reported back earlier. Bogdan brought Zakhar to the office so that he and Alec could ask any questions about the two strangers that came up while they planned their strategy.  

Bogdan started to say something, but Alec glared at the two, his eyes hard as flint.

“I said out.” Alec’s voice turned ice cold, warning of his mercurial temper.

“Yes, boss.” Bogdan nodded his head toward the door and said, “Let’s go,” to Zakhar. On the way out of the office, he stooped to pick up Rory as the cat tried to enter through the newly opened door.

Rory yowled indignantly as he struggled to get free, but Bogdan just tightened his grip and kept walking. “Your daddies are fighting, Rory. This is no place for you.” 

James snorted. Bogdan could be an asshole. Or was that a smartass?

Alec watched them go, then turned to James, his face full of confusion and frustration. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

James pressed his lips together. He had no intention of answering that question — he couldn’t admit the truth. There was nothing wrong with him. The problem was all Alec, not listening to him.

The planning session had been going well, until they decided that luring the two strangers out was the best strategy — and the best time for that lure would be in the morning, when 002’s coffin would be put on the plane to ship back to M.

Alec advanced on him and growled, “We’ve been over the plan. It’s solid. We’ve covered everything we can think of, and we have flexibility to counter anything unexpected. And  _ now _ you have a problem with it?”

He hated the plan. They had no idea who these two men were, or what they were capable of. What were their orders? To capture Janus? Or had they been ordered to kill Janus? 

He suppressed a shudder. He kept seeing Ourumov’s gun pointing at Alec’s head at Arkhangelsk, unable to interfere. Hearing the gun go off, and watching helplessly as Alec fell heavily to the side. He couldn’t go through that again. 

He wanted to break their stalemate, pull Alec into his arms and never let go. He wanted to lock Alec into the panic room until the threat had been neutralized. The problem was that Alec didn’t appreciate the idea of being kept safe and out of the action.

“Stay here.” He wasn’t quite begging. “We don’t have to both be there —”

“We’ve been over this!” Alec exploded, barely a foot away from him. “Both of us there will be a better lure for these two. We both agreed to this, James!”

“It’s too dangerous for both of us to be there!” Why wasn’t Alec listening to him?

“Then  _ you _ stay here and fret while I take care of the situation!” 

Alec was right in his face, yelling at him, so he brought his arms up and  _ shoved, _ needing space, needing to think. 

Alec was back again an instant later, his face twisted in fury. Alec’s shoulders bunched as he shoved James back a step.

James staggered for a moment until he regained his balance, then he surged forward, furious, and punched Alec in the jaw.

Alec shook his head slightly stunned, then snarled and attacked him. 

The rest of the fight was a blur, lost in a haze of fury. The next time James was aware, he couldn’t move. He was immobilized from behind, with Alec’s arms holding him tight. He struggled, trying to break free, but he might as well have had steel bands encircling him. 

He slowly realized that Alec wasn’t trying to fight back, just to keep him immobilized. He calmed down slowly, his chest heaving as he panted for breath.

“James.”

He felt Alec’s lips against his neck, sucking gently. He shuddered and relaxed completely, allowing Alec to hold him up.

“You’re bleeding.” Alec began nuzzling behind his ear.

He couldn’t help the slight hitch in his breathing. He turned his head to give Alec better access. Alec’s warm breath ghosted over his ear and he shivered. He struggled to focus on his words. “You? Afraid of a little blood?”

There was a sudden, sharp sting in his ear. Alec had bitten him, the bastard. He growled in need as heat pooled low in his groin in response. He didn’t realize that Alec had also taken a step away, releasing him, and almost staggered trying to regain his balance.

“Look at your arm.”

He blinked. His arm? What? Then he looked down, realizing that his biceps stung, and he could feel warm wetness as blood steadily trickled down his arm. “Ah.”

He glanced around. There were shards of glass glinting in the wreckage of the coffee table. He vaguely recalled landing hard on something that broke under the impact. He must have gotten sliced by one of the broken glasses.

“Here. Put pressure on that before you leak all over the place.”

He frowned at the pillow Alec offered him. It was one of a matched set from the couch. He fleetingly wondered if one of the ladies had had a hand in decorated the room.

“James. James!”

Alec was looking at him with a worried expression. He felt himself sway slightly, and grabbed the pillow. The bright spark of pain as he pressed it against the wound helped clear his head.

“Come on.” Alec led him into their bathroom and got him settled on a stool.

He watched as Alec cleaned the wound and began poking holes in his skin with a needle, pulling thread through, to make a neat row of stitches. Alec had always been good at needlework.

He felt wary as Alec finished up. Would their argument start again? He jumped, startled, as Alec’s hand slid around the back of his neck and lightly squeezed his nape. 

Alec’s eyes softened, and bent down, so their foreheads touched. “We’re both going tomorrow. We’ll both be targets.”

His shoulders slumped in defeat. There was no way he’d win the argument unless he admitted that he was afraid. He could only only hope that taking extra precautions would help. “Bullet-proof vests. And extra security.”

“Of course.” Alec straightened, smiling at him, and caressed his cheek. “Come to bed, love.”

 

~~~~

 

James clutched at Alec, his arm aching a bit where the stitches held his skin together, and wished that he could follow Alec into sleep after making love. Worry about the men they were facing in the morning kept prodding him awake with nightmare images of danger. He shouldn’t be worried about them. He and Alec were Double O’s, well able to handle anything, and they would be surrounded by their own guards. He’d still feel better if they had been able to find out more about them. 

Why hadn’t he been worried about Alec when they had confronted 002? Because Simon was familiar, with known capabilities. Hell, they’d both trained with Simon. There was something about the two men seeking Janus that sent up warning flares, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

He burrowed into Alec’s broad chest and tried to quiet the clamoring in his brain. They had planned everything out, with contingencies. Extra guards, snipers keeping watch — a thump and a disgruntled  _ mrrrup _ startled him. 

Where the hell had Rory come from? The cat walked across him, each step pressing into him feeling as though the cat weighed 50 pounds rather than only fifteen. When Rory reached Alec, he draped himself over his sleeping human.

Alec shifted, half-waking, and mumbled, “Damn cat.”

“He’s your cat.”

Alec hummed in agreement and pulled him closer, displacing Rory. “Sleep now.”

Rory slid down into the valley of the blankets between them and began kneading, needle-sharp claws pricking at him through the blanket.

He surrendered to sleep with a feeling of inevitability. The nightmares would ensure that he didn’t get much sleep. Tomorrow they would send Simon off, and become bait for the trap. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> M receives an unexpected package from Russia, and Q drops a bombshell on her that is equally unexpected.

 

Q regarded the crate with trepidation. His technicians had brought it to the workshop from the MI6 warehouse. It had been delivered there from the airport, after arriving from the Ukraine. The thing that most concerned him about the crate was that it was addressed to M — using her real name.

They had tested the crate immediately. There were no traces of explosives, but they did find something alarming. He had called a halt to all investigation of the crate at that point, and summoned a medical team. Then he’d requested that M come down.

Sometimes he missed the old M. He and the other elderly man had risen through the ranks together, and shared experiences had made them friends. He’d had to deal with the new M ever since his friend retired, and he still wasn’t sure what to make of her. He knew that Tanner disliked her, and that none of the Double O’s trusted her. It was almost enough to make him consider retirement himself, except that he had no replacement ready. And, if he were perfectly honest with himself, retirement would be boring.

M stalked into the workshop, not bothering to greet him as she demanded, “Well?”

Her short stature surprised him each time he saw her. The sheer force of her personality dominated every room she entered, making her seem taller.

“There’s a body in the crate.” He waited to see how she would react. When she merely raised an eyebrow, he continued. “Testing suggests that whoever it is might still be alive, although they’re not moving.”

She raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Is it safe to open the crate? Get a medical team down here.”

“I’ve already called them, they should be here —” he was interrupted by a clatter at the door as the medical team arrived with a gurney, “right now.”

“And the crate?” M prompted, sounding annoyed.

He turned to contemplate the crate again. “I’m very much afraid that the crate holds 002.”

M’s lips thinned. She would know better than he that Latimer had been sent to Russia to bring back 007, and that he was late checking in. 

Q suppressed a sigh. He had no idea what could have caused Bond to turn against Queen and country.

He signaled one of his technicians to lower the heavy glass blast shield between the small group of onlookers and the crate. M shot him a sharp glance as the shield descended from the ceiling, but said nothing.

After making sure that the medical team was ready, Q motioned to another of his technicians.

An anonymous figure in protective gear, the technician approached the crate with caution. The group behind the blast shield watched as the seals on the crate were carefully broken. Another technician, similarly dressed, came out to assist in removing the top of the crate.

The viewers watched as the technicians dismantled the crate, piece by piece, to reveal a coffin. The technicians stopped there, turning towards their leader for further instructions.

Q looked at M. “There’s been no sign of any explosives.”

She narrowed her eyes, studying the coffin, then nodded decisively. She motioned to the medical team and snapped, “Get him out of there.”

Q called for the blast shield to be raised as the medical team moved out. He watched them jockeying for position near the coffin while waiting for the technicians to open it.

M merely stood there, face impassive, all her focus on the scene in front of her. 

The medics swarmed forward as soon as the coffin’s lid was raised. After a few moments, the lead medic reported, “It is 002, Ma’am. He’s unconscious, but appears to be uninjured.”

Q followed M as she strode over to the group hovering around the coffin. 

The medics lifted Latimer out and moved him to the gurney. There was a brief stir around the body, then the lead medic addressed M. “There’s a note, Ma’am.”

Two of the medics stepped away, allowing M and Q to take their places.

M looked as if she had bitten a lemon. “Well, that’s rather definite. ‘The next one gets sent home in pieces.’ 007 is not just a rogue, he’s a traitor. Take 002 to medical. I want him ready to be debriefed as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” The lead medic acknowledged crisply. One of the medics began wheeling the gurney towards the door. 

He hadn’t been surprised when he heard that 007 had apparently gone rogue while in Russia. He knew that Bond was itching to take out the man responsible for Trevelyan’s death. What had surprised him was that Bond hadn’t returned after it became obvious that Ourumov was dead. What in the world would make him turn traitor? Q watched thoughtfully as the gurney bearing Latimer left the room.

 

~~~~

 

“Yes?” The voice answering the phone was clipped, terse. Suspicious.

“Ah, there you are. Not interrupting anything, am I?” The caller was affable, not minding the suspicion from the other.

“Oh, it’s you.” The voice changed, becoming — not friendly, exactly, but a bit warmer — as the caller was recognized. “What do you want?”

“Some buzz you might be interested in.” The caller adopted a conspiratorial tone. “Trevelyan’s been spotted. He's alive. In Russia, of all places.”

There was a noticeable delay before the voice responded. “Really? That  _ is _ interesting. Is there any explanation? What’s M going to do?”

“Well, it’s all hush-hush for now, you know. Typical.” The caller’s shrug was audible in his tone. “There’s no knowing what M will do. Send someone to investigate, probably.”

“Yes, quite.” Now the voice sounded distracted.

“If you have things to do, I’ll let you go.” The caller offered.

“Good, thanks. I appreciate that.” There was a tinge of relief in the voice. “And thank you for letting me know.”

“No problem at all. I’m sure we’ll talk again soon.”

“Yes, of course.”

The two phones hung up at the same time.

One of the phones immediately started ringing again.

A door opened. There was a pause, as if someone contemplated answering the phone. Then the door shut, closing on an empty room.

The phone kept ringing.

 

~~~~

In another room, much further away, someone wiped sweat from their forehead. “Come on, come on, pick up.”

 

~~~~

 

002 had awakened a few hours after his IV had been replaced, flushing the drugs keeping him unconscious from his system. He was mostly alert and attempting to charm the nursing staff in short order.

As soon as M had learned that 002 was awake, she called a meeting to debrief him.

Q had decided to attend. He hadn’t specifically been invited, but no one thought to question his presence in the room.

Latimer sat at the table, looking shaken and a bit pale. The hours spent unconscious in a coffin as it was flown to London from Kiev must have been rough on the man. How the devil did Latimer end up in Kiev, Q wondered. 002 had been sent to track Bond down in Moscow. 

His question was answered as Latimer gave his report, telling of meetings with informants and leads that indicated 007 had gone to Kiev. Apparently Latimer had taken the time to inform M of his intention to follow those leads, although this was the first Q heard of it. He huffed a bit under his breath, wondering why he was surprised. Latimer was one of the few agents that would keep M apprised of his movements.

No one spoke as Latimer finished his report.

“You’re sure it was Trevelyan?” M asked. She frowned deeply at 002’s nod. “And you believe that Bond knew, and that he was complicit in Trevelyan’s defection all along?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” 002 confirmed.

Q was troubled. Bond had truly believed that Trevelyan had died ten years ago — and Trevelyan would never have willingly chosen to abandon Bond. Something had happened to force that situation. Should he speak up, and tell what he knew? His silence on the matter had been easy for so many years. He hated to think that he might have to betray their confidence so that he could protect them.

“Trevelyan asked you, ‘How do you know I’m dead?’, using those exact words?” M pressed Latimer, “And Bond said you were telling the truth?”

Latimer nodded, “Yes, Ma’am.” 

M frowned again, then asked sharply, “And that’s  _ all _ they asked you?”

“Then someone knocked me out.” Latimer’s voice sounded overly confident. “I thought I was a goner, until I woke up here.”

“That seems odd,” M said pensively, sounding as if she was speaking to herself. Then she turned her focus back to Latimer. “Why would Trevelyan be concerned about how you knew he was dead?”

“A possible falling out between the two?” Latimer suggested. “Trevelyan was confirming that Bond had reported him dead?”

“I don’t know Trevelyan, that was before my time, but I can’t believe that Bond would betray England, Ma’am.” Tanner said, leaning towards M as he spoke.

Miss Moneypenny looked up from her notepad. M’s secretary was sitting quietly at the table, ostensibly there to take notes. Instead, she had been listening avidly to everything 002 said. She nodded, adding her support to Tanner. “It is quite out of character for James.”

M hummed, looking doubtful. “Perhaps.”

Q sighed. He would have to speak up. “Bond truly believed that Trevelyan was dead. You don’t fake that kind of grief.”

Heads all around the room turned to him.

“What do you mean, Quartermaster?” M asked, her blue eyes piercing him with the force of her attention.

He bowed his head, mentally apologizing to the boys. He hoped that he was helping them. “Bond was grieving for the death of his partner.”

“Well of course they were —” 

He saw the moment that M understood what he was saying. Her mouth dropped open as her eyes widened in shock.

“He had no idea Trevelyan was still alive then,” Q continued, “and that hasn’t changed in all the years I’ve known him.”  

The room erupted in conversation, but M irritably waved them to silence. “Do you have anything further to add, Quartermaster?”

He raised his chin. “Not at this time.”

M gave him a dark look, giving him notice that she would be bringing this up again — and in the near future. “That changes Bond’s motivation. It sounds to me as though Bond and Trevelyan suspect we have a mole or traitor in our ranks. Does anyone have anything to add?” 

She waited. There was complete silence in the room. She continued, “Go get me some answers. One thing — no one is to speak of this to anyone else without my express permission.  I know you all gossip worse than old women. Try to at least act like intelligence professionals you are supposed to be.  No other Double O’s, no other staff, no other Q-branch personnel. This is to be close held information, and if anyone breathes a word of this, a shallow, unmarked grave will be the best you can hope for. We may need to clean house. Let’s find out for sure and do it.”

As everyone filed out of the room, M said sharply, “Not you, Quartermaster. We have things to discuss.”

He almost cringed. Ridiculous. He was a department head, not a young boy summoned to speak to the headmistress. 

 

~~~~

 

Q followed M as she stormed into her office. She spun to face him, her eyes snapping with anger.

“What the  _ hell _ was that?!”

“M?”

“Don’t give me that, Quartermaster. Your little bombshell about Bond.”

“I’d really rather not say. They were quite good at their jobs, you know. Their personal relationship never affected their...” he trailed off, wincing as he realized that he had no other way to finish that sentence. “Ah, their performance.”

M’s lips tightened. She drew in a deep breath, but was interrupted by a knock at the still open door.

Tanner stood there, hesitating.

“Do you have something to say, Tanner?” M snapped.

He looked uneasily from M to Q and back. Tanner stepped further into the office, the file folder in his arms held close to his chest as if in protection from M. “It’s odd, Ma’am. There’s no record of Trevelyan’s mission to Arkhangelsk. Just a report that Bond was sent out to assist in destroying the chemical weapons factory.”

“Who assigned Trevelyan in the first place?”

“Greg Pollard, but —”

“I don’t know that name. Does he still work for us, or has he retired? I want to see him as soon as possible.”

Tanner coughed apologetically. “I’m sorry, M, but he’s dead. He had a heart attack about a week after Bond left for Arkhangelsk.”

“Oh, now that isn’t at all suspicious is it?” M huffed in annoyance. “Is there anything that you  _ can _ tell me?”

Tanner opened his mouth to speak, but then shook his head silently instead.

“Well, find out, for God’s sake.” M glared at Tanner, as if she were holding him personally responsible for the lack of information.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Tanner turned, and left the office as fast as he could — without actually running.

“As for you, Quartermaster,” M turned the full force of her attention back to him. “We’re going to discuss keeping information from me. But first — are there any  _ other _ couples that work for me that I should know about?”

Q hesitated. “Well —”

M ground her teeth in anger.

~~~~

 

Much later the person that had ignored the phone call leafed through a stack of messages. Each one was from the same source. 

The person shook their head and tutted. “Panicking. You’re becoming a liability. I know just how to deal with liabilities.” 

Their mouth curved into a smile.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is end of Smoke and Mirrors. I have at least two more stories planned out in this 'verse, but first I'm going to focus on finishing Real Legend. After that - James and Alec go to Moscow in search of some answers - who set 002 on their trail to begin with? After they find some answers there, they will take their vendetta home - back to MI6.

**Author's Note:**

> I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi. You can find me on tumblr at leavesdancing.tumblr.com.


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